One Step Forward Equals Two Steps Back
by Emilee Crumby
Summary: Highly indulgent fluff piece intended to treat Snape with the kindness he desperately needs. Sick Snape later on.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note:

This fic is quite different from my other stories (at least to start). Please be nice as I'm super nervous about posting it. It's nothing but a bunch of self-indulgent fluff but it's my first time writing an OC into a fanfic and the thought of showing her off terrifies me.

Disclaimer: I own nothing and am seriously considering cutting JK Rowling a check just playing with her characters.

**Chapter 1.**

"You can start making packs for burn kits. The Blast-Ended Skrewts are back and I daresay we'll have half a dozen students before the end of the week," as she spoke, Madam Pomfrey stumbled and an enormous pile of bandages fell to the ground. Her red face tightened and I foresaw the week's stress overwhelming her any moment now.

"Let me get those," I said, quickly kneeling to collect the pieces. "I'll have these into kits by lunchtime. You don't need to worry about it."

I saw her brow wrinkle a moment, as though unsure I could be trusted with the task. In Madam Pomfrey's defense I had only been there a few weeks. She knew nothing of my personality or education except that I had schooled at a tiny institution called Newt Manor deep in the plains of Wyoming. Honestly, I gave her major points for my reception thus far. It certainly was a credit to Dumbledore, the deference his staff gave to his decisions. I had only the occasional questioning of my methods and when people sized me up, they usually made sure I wasn't looking. Or so they thought.

No, it wasn't easy being a 26 year old American girl in such a world renowned school as Hogwarts, but I was more than eager to prove myself. In the meantime, I could be patient.

I guess she decided I could be trusted because Madam Pomfrey eventually disappeared into her office, leaving me alone in the hospital corridor. I went through the first few kits by hand, ensuring each contained sufficient gauze and bandaging, as well as a small vial of Mending Potion and a Cooling Tonic for pain. I started humming to myself as I put the first batch of kits away and started on the next, this time directing the flow of supplies at the tip of my wand.

"Good afternoon Miss Pendergraft," a voice came suddenly behind me.

I jumped and spun quickly around, sending a package of gauze flying directly into the face of one Albus Dumbledore, aka my new boss.

"Oh," I gasped. "I'm so sorry, Headmaster. Please forgive…"

Dumbledore cut me off with a raised hand and a chuckle. "No harm done, Miss Pendergraft. I assure you, I've had worse things thrown at me than cotton balls. But I do apologize for startling you."

"It's fine," I said quickly. "That is, it's not your fault. I'm really easily startled. I guess I just get so focused on things I kind of forget where I am. You know?"

This time I cut myself off. Babbling was another bad habit of mine. I took a slow breath. "Is there anything I can do for you, Headmaster?"

At this moment Madam Pomfrey reappeared. She looked disdainfully at the many unfinished packs before me.

"Are those all you've finished?" she asked.

"No ma'am," I replied. "There are already two dozen in the closet."

She said nothing but I tried to tell myself she was impressed with my efficiency. When Dumbledore turned back to address the medi-witch I resumed making the packs, eager to appear diligent.

"I'm afraid I've been distracting her," Dumbledore said easily. "Forgive me."

"It's no matter," Madam Pomfrey shrugged. "What can we do for you, sir?"

"I was just checking in to see how Miss Pendergraft was settling in," he replied. "I hope I didn't start her too late in the summer. Now she's only a few weeks to get accustomed before the students arrive."

Without a smile Madam Pomfrey replied. "She's actually doing very well, sir. Possibly the most proficient assistant I've had."

I turned my face wholly towards my work then, struggling to hide my smile.

"Very good," said Dumbledore, turning to leave. "Miss Pendergraft I would be pleased if you would join me for tea tomorrow afternoon."

"Of course, sir," I said, turning my face forward and managing to suppress my idiotic grin.

"Excellent," he smiled and left.

I paused and turned towards Madam Pomfrey who continued to not smile.

"Well go on then," she said curtly. "We'll need at least another dozen."

I almost laughed out loud as she left.

**Chapter 2**

The next afternoon I had only just finished my day's tasks as I was supposed to be starting tea. On the one hand, I told myself as I tried to re-suspend the powdered dragon scales in my flask; I should finish my job before having tea. On the other, I should appease my boss first and foremost.

On the third hand, of course, I still wasn't quite sure I fully understood the point of tea time.

So now at five past the hour I was flying down the hall towards Dumbledore's office. I ran up the never ending spiral staircase and rapped on the door. After I heard a greeting I pushed it open, breathless and panting, only to find that Dumbledore was not alone.

"Miss Pendergraft, have you met Professor Severus Snape?" Dumbledore asked serenely as I tried to fan the heat from my cheeks without being noticed.

I held out a hand, hoping it wasn't too sweaty.

"Xaria Pendergraft," I said, trying to slow my breathing.

He nodded and stared at my hand a moment before taking it. His large, dark eyes met mine only for a moment before turning back to the headmaster.

"I'm sorry Miss Pendergraft, time seems to have gotten away from me. We'll only be a moment longer."

"Oh, it's cool," I assured him. "I'll just wait outside then?"

"If you don't mind," he said kindly.

Lost in thought and face burning with embarrassment I left them alone again. In the hall I tried to smooth my hair while pondering. In truth, this wasn't my first time meeting Severus Snape.

SSSSSSSS

In my first few days at Hogwarts, Madam Pomfrey was instructing me on her preferred solutions for PepperUp, Bone Re-Grow, Acne Remover Potion, and a handful of others. She had sent me, alone, to seek out a handful of ingredients and I had ventured out into the vast, empty castle. After following a half dozen wrong turns and being harassed by a nasty poltergeist, I had finally found the dungeons where the Potions class was.

Besides the clearly marked closet for "Student Supplies" there was a room full of tall cabinets each with shelf after shelf of flasks and vials. I was briefly overwhelmed before setting forth to the task of selecting what I needed.

"What are you doing in here?" A sharp voice cracked out behind me and I jumped, splashing a drop of moonseed onto my palm. I winced at the pain before turning to see a tall, dark man approaching me with a look of intense ferocity.

"Students aren't supposed to be in here," he continued with a growl.

"I'm not a student," I answered, trying not to be indignant at being mistaken for a 17 year old. My hand started to burn.

"Well who are you then?" he asked impatiently.

"I'm working as an assistant in the Hospital Wing," I answered hurriedly. "I'm training to be a medi-witch. Madam Pomfrey said I could get supplies down here."

His eyes flashed but his tone dropped a shade as he began to rant. "You tell her if she wants supplies for her potions she can ask me. I don't need incompetent children fumbling about, ruining valuable material…"

He continued but I was starting to lose track of his words. The pain in my hand had rapidly swelled to an excruciating level. I would almost swear flames were licking at my skin. In my mind I begged him to finish so I could go tend to my wound.

"Are you crying?" he asked suddenly, looking both shocked and disgusted.

"I'm sorry Professor." I was desperate not to show him my hand but the pain was increasing every moment and, at this point, I feared he would never let me go. I brought my palm forward to inspect the damage. If I thought the pain was bad, the sight of the injury was far worse. It seemed the outer layers of skin had been burned, leaving only a shiny red welt. Spots of blood were starting to pool and I squeezed my fist to try and staunch the flow.

He swore quietly under his breath and looked behind me to see which potion had caused the damage. Briskly he headed off to the other side of the storage room. I wondered if I was allowed to leave now. Black spots were beginning to form at the edges of my vision and I started to fear I would pass out soon.

Before I could weigh the option of trying to walk all the way back to the Hospital Wing or staying for another bout of yelling, he was back. He pulled a handkerchief from his robes and poured an electric blue liquid over it. Then, with more care than seemed possible a moment earlier, he began to dab at my hand.

Instantly the burning was cooled. The sense of relief was sweet and I sighed quietly. He said nothing while he worked.

"How is the pain?" he asked after a few minutes.

"Better thanks," I answered quietly.

"Madam Pomfrey can finish healing you," he said. He turned abruptly and strode from the room. "And I expect that moonseed to be replaced."

When I had gone back to Madam Pomfrey, she had an earful to say about Professor Snape.

"As if they're _his_ potions to share in the first place," she growled while healing my hand. "They belong to Hogwarts. And I dare say our need for them is greater than his."

SSSSSSS

I saw Snape several times in the halls and during meals after that. He never made the slightest attempt at conversation, not even to continue his lecture on stealing supplies. It was almost as if he didn't remember meeting me at all.

And just now, he shook my hand with such coldness it was as though he hadn't held the same hand a few weeks prior with incomparable tenderness.

As I mulled over these thoughts, not for the first time, the door flung open and he was standing before me. I smiled weakly at him but was received with only a curt nod before he swept his cloak around himself and headed downstairs. I sighed and headed into the headmaster's office.

"I'm sorry for interrupting before," I said as Dumbledore gestured for me to take a seat.

"Not at all," he smiled. "I was the one who was wrong. When hosting a colleague for tea, one really ought to strive for punctuality."

"Naw," I grinned back. "If you'd been on time you would have seen that I was running late myself."

"How fortuitous," he mused, pouring a cup of tea. I took a sip and tried not to grimace at the taste.

Dumbledore seemed to pick up on what I strove not to show.

"Not a tea drinker?" he asked.

"Not yet," I answered. "It's definitely not a staple where I come from."

Before I knew what was happening, Dumbledore had whisked out his wand and brandished it over my drink. Immediately the cup was filled with a dark, slow roasted coffee.

"God bless you," I said heartily, taking a deep drink. "I swear, I'll get used to tea one of these days. I really like what a cultural thing it is here. There's really nothing like it in America. It's quite fascinating."

"I can't say I wholly disagree," Dumbledore said, taking a sip of his own cup.

I hesitated a moment before speaking again. "Didn't Professor Snape want to stay for tea? I really wasn't trying to push him out like that."

"I don't imagine Severus was interested in staying much longer."

"Oh," I felt my stomach drop.

"That is to say," Dumbledore continued, looking grave, "He was only here to discuss a serious issue. Not to socialize."

"Is he all right?" I asked. Immediately I feared I was overstepping, but Dumbledore only smiled sadly.

"I'm afraid he's been having a bit of a tough time with recent… alterations in his lifestyle," Dumbledore said carefully.

I put down my cup and looked at him. "Sir, in addition to not fully comprehending tea, I've also not yet learned the English trick of subtlety. Please forgive my bluntness, but are you talking about You-Know-Who?"

It may have been my imagination but Dumbledore seemed almost amused at my speech. "Voldemort, yes. Severus has been integral in attaining information for those combating him."

At first I was shocked at the frankness of the statement. I couldn't believe Dumbledore was so willing to trust me. But then, as I absorbed his statement I nodded slowly.

"That must be very dangerous," I thought aloud.

"Severus is not afraid of danger," Dumbledore said. "I do feel, though, that he may be lonely."

"Lonely?" I asked. It seemed a ridiculous thing to be concerned about, with everything else going on.

But then I thought some more. If he was gathering information he was surely some sort of spy. I imagined Snape surrounded by Death Eaters, monitoring his every action so to be seen as one of them. He could never let his guard down. Even when amongst friends, he had to be careful. You-Know-Who's followers were everywhere and I imagined any of them would be eager to catch him cavorting with Dumbledore. Lonely indeed.

My train of thought was interrupted when the headmaster held out a plate. "Biscuit?" he asked. "Or would you prefer I turn it into biscotti?"

I chuckled and took a butter cookie, nibbling on its edge while our conversation steered toward a lighter direction. Still, I kept Snape at the back of my mind until such time as I was alone and better able to consider things.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 3**

Over the next few days I took every available opportunity to observe Professor Snape. Regarding him as lonely really cast his coldness in an entirely new light. When he refused to engage in small talk with the other professors I started considering him stoic rather than antisocial. When he snapped at people I could see now that the walls he built up were for them more than anything else.

If classes hadn't started I may have become altogether obsessed with watching Snape. As it was the sudden influx of students rendered me busier than I had ever been before.

In the first week Madam Pomfrey and I were pretty much confined to the hospital wing, administering a series of vaccinations. The first years needed a slew of shots as well as anyone starting Care of Magical Creatures. Starting right after breakfast until late in the evening there was usually a line out the door.

We ate meals rapidly in her office, while taking notes on which students have received what. By the time we had finished paperwork in the evenings it was all I could do to make it back to my room and pass out asleep. By Thursday afternoon though, the end was in sight. We had only to do physical exams on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team and then we should have a break. As Madam Pomfrey was weighing the final Chaser she assured me that the second week was always a breeze compared to the first.

So you can imagine my surprise when Thursday night, only an hour after turning in there came a startling knock on my door. Bleary eyed I opened it and was surprised to find a tiny, female house elf quivering before me.

"So very sorry to wake you, miss," she squeaked. "Buts Madam Pomfrey is needing your help."

"Oh," I said, startled. "Of course. Um, thanks." I was still uneasy around house elves. We really had nothing like them in the U.S.

"What was your name?" I called out. She had already started to retreat but turned around instantly.

"It's Millie, miss," she answered, looking uncomfortable.

"Well thank you for fetching me, Millie." I said, just as uncomfortable. Somehow, though, knowing her name made me feel better.

She nodded and disappeared and soon after, I followed.

When I got down to the hospital I was surprised to see it mostly empty. In fact, the only person I saw was Madam Pomfrey who was scurrying in enough of a frenzy to occupy the space of five people.

"Sodden earmuffs," she mumbled to herself, toppling a pile of sheets in a frantic search.

"What happened?" I asked, concerned.

She looked up as if surprised to see me. "The Herbology Club," she sighed. "Someone broke open a pot with a baby Mandrake and they're dropping like flies."

"Do we have enough restorative?" I asked, moving quickly to the storage closet.

She waved her hand towards me as she triumphantly withdrew a large pair of earmuffs from a drawer.

"Oh yes," she said. "Don't worry about all that. They'll all be fine. I just need you to stay here."

I looked around at the empty room. "Why?" I asked, entirely puzzled.

Madam Pomfrey stopped pacing and looked at me.

"Dumbledore says you can be trusted," she said, more to herself than me. She raised her voice. "We have a patient you should stay with."

Before she could tell me more, a tall, round faced boy burst through the door. "Madam Pomfrey," he croaked, "please hurry."

She was animated once again. "Coming Mr. Longbottom," she told him. "Fourth door on the left," she called to me as she departed.

I looked down the long, dark corridor for a moment before going forth. Somehow I knew what I would see even before I got there.

Sitting up along a cot, face white and drawn, was Professor Snape. His one leg dangled to the side, as though he were in the process of rising. The other though, was propped high before him. Just a few inches below his knee was a bite mark, bloody and swollen, and obviously extremely painful.

"What are you doing here?" he asked when he saw me. He leaned over as if to stand but winced.

"Apparently I'm trustworthy," I muttered moving closer and pressing my hand into his chest, pushing him back onto the bed. "Sit back," I instructed, surveying the injury.

He complied but set his jaw against me as if willing me to combust.

"Where's Madam Pomfrey?" he asked tightly.

"Greenhouses," I answered. I moved across the room to the Binding Solution that was sat on a side table. "Issue with the Mandrakes. Do you know how much she's used already?"

He didn't want to answer. I could tell by the look in his eyes that a large part of him still hoped I would just leave. "About a quarter of the bottle," he finally said. "It's already healed quite a bit."

"I guess it's just a matter of time them. How's the pain?"

"Insignificant," he said clenching his jaw.

"Well that's just not true," I smiled, hoping he would see it as a sign of kindness and not mocking. "Let me get you something for that."

"No," he insisted brusquely.

I stepped a bit closer and looked into his eyes. In addition to pain I saw obvious distrust. "How quickly did you take the anti-venom?" I asked quietly.

He didn't answer.

"If you waited more than fifteen minutes I imagine a good deal of venom is running through your bloodstream. The pain must be excruciating." I paused. "Snake bites are nasty things."

"It was about twenty minutes," he said, almost inaudibly.

"I'll tell you what," I said, moving away again. "I'll make you a nice Sleeping Draught with pain reliever. By the time you wake up you'll be completely healed."

"That's unnecessary."

"Come on," I chided. "I need the practice."

"Oh and I'm going to be your guinea pig?" he said bitingly.

I fixed a smile to my face. "See I was trying to be decorous. I actually make an awesome Sleeping Draught. The second it touches your lips the pain in your leg will melt away. You'll sleep all night with only the faintest and most pleasant dreams and when you awake you'll be as fresh as a newborn. Your leg will feel so good you'll want to go running."

I stopped. Did I sense longing in his eyes. "I'll be back with it in a few minutes," I said, departing the room.

As I mixed the ingredients I could see what a struggle Snape would be. Every concession he made cost him dearly. And yet, I imagined it would be worth the trouble. I smiled to myself and added an extra dose of wormwood for good dreams.

**Chapter 4**

The semester went on and the weather began to lose the blunt edge of heat. On my afternoons off I would take a couple of Medical Magic books outside and read under the shade of the trees. Although I had yet to make any real friends I was starting to learn names and even be recognized by a larger collection of students and staff. A few of the regulars in the Hospital Wing, mostly Quidditch players and that Longbottom boy, would stop to chat when they passed me in the halls. I had gone out to help with a few Care of Magical Creatures classes that proved to be more dangerous and had struck up a casual acquaintance with the teacher, Rubeus Hagrid. Professor Snape, even, had started responding to nearly half my greetings. It was typically only a stiff nod, but I accepted what I could get.

I usually ate my meals in the Hospital Wing with Madam Pomfrey who only ventured into the Great Hall every few days or so. She littered conversations with complaints about the dangers surrounding the school. By mid-October I was becoming a bit tired of her prattling on about under qualified teachers trying to heal and dangerous classes where students were lucky to survive. I resolved to branch out and November first, started eating regularly in the Great Hall.

After the first day of feeling completely out of place, I was surprised at how warm people were. The other professors, save the Potions Master of course, were eager to hear about my education at Newt Manor.

"You took Muggle correspondence courses?" Professor Sprout asked me one day, so shocked she neglected to swallow her pot pie first. A few other professors stared at me, astounded.

"Only in medicine, really," I answered shyly. "There's a lot of overlap in the material."

"But, they didn't know what you are?" Professor Flitwick asked.

I shrugged. "I didn't _exactly_ keep it a secret. But then, I don't think they really believed it anyway. Most of the Muggles in America that know about us, just assume we're crazy and try to avoid the subject. Our government isn't as strict as yours with secrecy. There just isn't as much of a divide."

From behind us Dumbledore caught my eye and smiled. Sprout and Flitwick gaped as I went back to my food.

"Is he not eating again?" I heard Professor McGonagall ask the headmaster quietly.

"He says he's too swamped with work to take a break right now," Dumbledore answered. "Poor bloke. I hate having him do double duty like this but…"

"What can you do?" McGonagall finished for him.

I didn't have to look up to know who they were speaking about. I won't lie and say that seeing Snape didn't at least partially motivate my emergence into Hogwarts' society. But it was very disappointing. He seemed to show up only rarely for meals, often scarfing down just a few bites before excusing himself to go back to work.

"If I have the time later," Dumbledore continued to the Transfiguration professor, "I'll ask a house elf to bring him some food."

Again I didn't need to raise my head. I had the sneaking suspicion that the comment was directed towards me.

Not twenty minutes later I was knocking lightly on the Potions dungeon door, a tray of sandwiches and mug of pumpkin juice balanced carefully between my hands.

"Come in," a surly voice called out.

I managed to drop nothing as I worked the door open and brought in the food. I placed it gently on the edge of Snape's desk, on the only space not covered in parchments.

"What's this?" he asked through his teeth.

"Lunch," I said simply. "Generally taken between breakfast and dinner, intended to provide nourishment requisite for maintaining health and energy levels through the afternoon."

He stared at the food for a moment before dropping his eyes back to the paper in front of him. "Thank you," he said.

I leaned back against a lab bench and watched as he finished the paper he was grading. He didn't touch the plate. After circling a large "D" on the top of a paper he brushed it aside and looked up at me.

"Anything else I can do for you Miss Pendergraft?"

"Is there an answer key?"

"I beg your pardon," his voice was silky but severe.

"A test containing all the correct answers against which one could grade a student paper," I continued my little joke.

He considered for only a moment, during which I wholly expected to be banished from the room. Then he slid a sheet of parchment across the desk. "You can use Granger's exam to grade against," he told me.

I pulled up a chair and sat at the end of his long desk, collecting a stack of tests as I rapidly went through the answers. We didn't speak again and I managed not even to raise my head when he reached for a sandwich. When the tests were finished and sorted he looked up at me with his usual nod. But then, shocking me to my core, his lips curved into an uncomfortable and forced-looking smile. I grinned foolishly back and then left before I could say anything stupid enough to lose the major step I had just earned.

From then on it became a bit of a routine with us. Some days I was too busy with work and some days he managed to show up in the Great Hall for lunch. But on the other days, those blissful other days, I would meet Millie in the Hogwarts kitchen and take from her an ample supply and variety of food. And then I would venture off to sit beside Snape in silence, enjoying every moment of it.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Possibly my writing doesn't convey the emotion I've intended here. If you think it'll help pop in your Paramore CD and listen to _The Only Exception_ while reading chapter 6.

Disclaimer: I don't own Paramore.

**Chapter 5**

When Christmas rolled around, I was more than ready for a break. Student illness had become rampant with the change in weather keeping Madam Pomfrey and I on our feet from morning until night. Then, when the excitement of the holiday rolled around, we were inundated with swarms of injuries, pranks gone badly, frostbite from lengthy snowball fights, and chronically fatigued students who had forgotten to sleep in studying for midterm exams.

I didn't see Snape for the entire week proceeding Christmas except in passing in the halls. He had gone back from a tight smile to an even tighter nod and I resigned myself to the thought of starting from scratch.

One day when I was passing through the courtyard and he swept by me I decided to take the plunge.

"Professor Snape?" I said carefully.

He whipped around and stared down at me, the epitome of intimidation. He waited impatiently for me to speak. So much for casual small talk.

"I,uh, I'm sorry I haven't been able to help you out lately. As soon as stuff slows down again I'll be back around," my words sounded idiotic and I flushed.

"I am more than able to do my job without you, Miss Pendergraft," he declared, causing me to flush deeper.

He surveyed me and his tone softened a hair. "I imagine you've been very busy with work."

"Half the second years are laid up with Dragon Pox." I intended it to be conversational but realized it sounded as though I were trying to make an excuse.

Snape nodded silently before turning and continuing his walk across the snow. I dropped my head and sighed. _Idiot,_ I berated myself.

"A'right there Xaria?" Hagrid suddenly emerged before me, red faced and breathing heavily. His beard was laced with pine needles and I imagined the Great Hall was bursting to capacity with Christmas spirit.

"Hi Hagrid," I tried to grin over the lingering shame. "How're the decorations coming?"

"Mos' work I do all year," he called broadly. "But easily the mos' fun, as well."

"Well you can't beat that," I said. Without noticing it, my eyes had drifted back to where Snape had retreated. I could feel Hagrid studying me.

"I'm jus' abou' finished if you wanna grab a drink at the Three Broomsticks," he interrupted my thought. "Leola's workin' tonight."

Earlier that month I had volunteered to supervise a student trip to Hogsmeade. Hagrid had kindly taken me under his wing and given me a tour of the town, with a lengthy stop at the Three Broomsticks, a popular local pub. There I had met waitress Leola Crego. She had joined our group after the second round and we passed the afternoon in laughter. I liked her immensely and we had spent several evenings together since. Truly she was the closest thing I had to a friend in all of England.

"Oh I don't know," I trailed off, thinking I wanted nothing more than a hot bath and to wallow in my own awkwardness.

"Come on then," he insisted. "It's Christmas. I'll buy the first round," he added as an afterthought.

I turned to him with a grin. "Sold," I said extending my hand for a hearty shake. "Just let me change and I'll meet you at your place in an hour."

Two hours later I was again red faced, this time from laughter. (Although the honeyed mead didn't help.) On my first trip to the Three Broomsticks, Rosmerta had balked at my order (SoCo with lime) and had insisted on bringing me only what she called "proper English drinks." The honeyed mead was stronger that I was used to and the sweetness disguising the flavor didn't help.

"So yeah, I rode it anyway," Leola was saying. "Who cares if I was wearing a Muggle mini-dress? It's not every day you get to test drive a Firebolt."

I spilled mead down my front as I exploded with laughter.

"_Scourgify_," I muttered to myself, quickly cleaning the spill before anyone saw. Leola caught me though.

"Do you need to slow down?" she joked while Hagrid continued chuckling.

"Most definitely not," I assured her. Then the music stopped and a slow ballad began. I looked over Leola's shoulder to see a very fat, very old wizard crooning along to the beat, his voice magically magnified.

"Three Broomsticks has a karaoke night?" I asked, incredulous.

"Why do you think I drink?" Leona laughed. Then without taking a breath, "Oh my god you should totally sing something."

"I'm not _that_ drunk," I said when Hagrid turned to look over.

"Do yeh sing?" he asked.

"She used to be in the North Atlantic Witches Choir," Leola told him.

"Wow," I gaped at her. "Secrets much?"

"Oh you _so_ have to sing. Hold on, I'm going to sign you up." Without giving me a chance to protest she darted up to the bar and starting talking animatedly to the wizard working sound.

"No, no, no," I groaned, holding my head in my hands. "I can't do this."

Hagrid laughed and pushed his drink towards me. "Think this'll help?" he asked.

"Couldn't hurt," I replied, downing a mouthful of what seemed to be straight fire whiskey.

**Chapter 6**

**Snape's POV**

With Albus standing on my left and Minerva on my right I felt positively pinned. Not that either was physically restraining me, of course, but that didn't stop me from feeling claustrophobic.

"I don't have time," I had tried to tell them when they stopped by my office earlier.

"Nonesense, Severus," Dumbledore had said smoothly. "It's Christmas and you need to have some semblance of a holiday."

"I've got papers to grade," I tried again.

"And you have all holiday to grade them," he insisted beckoning to me. Minerva stood slightly behind him and smiled faintly at me when I finally rose.

"It won't be so bad," she whispered into my ear as we left the castle.

But it was worse. Not only were there students there acting like loud idiots, but many members of the Hogwarts staff were there as well. I detested the thought that any moment now someone would notice me and attention would be drawn to the fact that I so infrequently socialized. I wondered how long I would have to stay before Dumbledore would permit me to retreat back to the castle.

"Three butterbears please," the headmaster told the waitress as we settled into a corner booth. "Oh my goodness…" he said. I raised my head to follow his gaze.

Standing on a small, round platform was a giggly and obviously tipsy Xaria Pendergraft. Her face was brilliantly red and she looked even less eager than I to be in public view.

"Yeh can do it, Xaria," bellowed Hagrid from a table near the stage.

The wizard controlling sound raised his wand, I expect to magnify her voice. She shook her head rapidly and he backed off. Some tables near the front quieted as she started to speak.

"Sorry for this," she called the audience at large. "My 'friend' insisted."

A curly haired blonde girl in the front row stood and waved. And then the music started.

It was a song I didn't recognize, probably some sort of Muggle tune. Muggle music, I understood, was quite a fad among young people these days.

She took a deep breath, quivering a bit, and began.

"_When I was younger I saw my daddy cry and curse at the wind. He broke his own heart as I watched as he tried to reassemble it_," she sang.

Rapidly the pub began to quiet down as people became entranced by her. Her voice was clear and bell-like with a warm, buttery undertone. Even without being magnified, her song cascaded through the entire room. My spine tingled faintly and I had the sensation of hairs standing up on the back of my neck.

"_That was the day that I promised I'd never sing of love if it does not exist_," she continued.

So far her eyes were cast down as though hoping to escape notice. She seemed to realize, now, that this was impossible and looked up at the masses staring enthralled by her. She cast a gaze around the room and quickly her eyes found mine. I longed to look away but she held my gaze almost as if against my will.

"_But darling, you are the only exception_," she echoed herself, staring at me all the while.

"She's quite good, isn't she?" I heard Minerva whisper to Dumbledore.

"Quite," he replied faintly.

In a daze, I nodded.

**Chapter 7 **

I was amazed, and bit proud, that I managed all the way to the last note without my voice breaking. Maybe there was more than just whiskey in Hagrid's drink.

Applause erupted and Hagrid and Leola rose when I finished. My view was blocked by the giant obviously trying to squeeze me to death.

"Tha' was so good," he bellowed. "Yer really talented."

"Thank you," I grinned, my heart racing.

"He's right, you know," said a young wizard I didn't know. "That was amazing."

I smiled and thanked him as he followed me back to my seat.

"What are you drinking?" he asked sweetly, lightly gripping my elbow.

I didn't respond, instead scanning the crowd. The booth by the door now held only Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore, the latter of whom gave me a large thumbs up.

"Can I buy you a drink?" the stranger asked again, trying to catch my eye.

"Oh," I jerked back. "Um, sure. Thanks."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**: And here's where I go back to my roots (so to speak). Welcome returning readers.

**Chapter 8**

A few weeks later I was scurrying down the hall in the dungeons when I heard a sound that made me stop short. It sounded like a sneeze echoing off the stone walls. But the only one here was Snape and somehow I couldn't picture him sneezing. It was a bit too human.

As I rounded the corner and saw him through the open doorway rubbing at his nose, I was convinced.

"Sorry I'm late," I said, bursting in. "Millie was intent I get one of each type of sandwich and they didn't have that many already made."

"Millie?" he asked, looking up.

"House elf," I answered setting down the tray and pumpkin juice. "So please at least try the chicken one so I can assure her it was worth the wait."

He stared at the plate for a moment before choosing a chicken sandwich and taking a bite. While he chewed, I glanced him once up and down. I noticed a hint of fatigue crossed into his features that I had never seen before.

"What?" he snapped, looking back at me.

"Are you all right, sir? You seem a bit tired."

He sniffed derisively. "My sixth years are idiots. Grading these papers is giving me a headache."

"Oh," I sidled up beside him and pulled the papers forward while speaking. "Then why don't I do these and you work on the first years? They seem pretty bright."

"That's relative," he snorted but obliged, starting in on a new set of exams.

I took my usual seat down the table and we began to work; in silence, of course. After a few minutes of grading I noticed that he had stopped writing. I looked up to see he had raised his head as if studying something of interest floating in the air before him. I followed his gaze and saw nothing. I glanced back at him.

"Um, Professor?" I started to ask. I was interrupted by Snape whipping his head forward into tightly controlled, but very strong sneeze. Oh.

"Bless you."

"Thank you," he said quietly and got back to his work.

Nearly twenty minutes later he sneezed again and I broke my rule of only blessing a person once per visit. He thanked me again, but this time more curtly and I began to wonder if he was embarrassed.

The third time he sneezed he actually turned around in his chair, directing the explosion of breath into the floor.

"Professor," I asked, hesitantly.

"Yes, what is it?" he snapped.

I gulped. "Are you sure you're feeling all right?"

"I'm fine," he barked. "Have you finished those papers?"

"Yes sir," I whispered, passing them forward. He surveyed the parchments for a moment before waving a hand at me. "You may go then."

My heart sunk as I rose to leave. One of these days I'll learn to keep my mouth shut, I thought. But I supposed the damage was done so at the doorway I turned back once more.

"You take care of that cold, sir," I told him swiftly before departing.

**Chapter 9**

I looked around again to make sure everything was tidy and stocked. It had been a very slow evening and Madam Pomfrey had told me I could leave after I'd finished refilling the supplies. I headed towards her office to ask again if there was anything more I could do but stopped short at the door. Her voice was raised almost to a yell, a sure sign that someone was disrespecting her authority.

"I'm not going to stay here with the students," came a deep voice I didn't recognize.

"There aren't any students here just now. And you can have your own room anyway, just down the corridor," Pomfrey's voice was shrill and angry.

"I can sleep just as well in my quarters."

"Just but that's just it. You won't sleep in your quarters. You won't get the rest you require and you'll only become more ill."

"I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself," the faceless voice rose in volume until it cracked on the last word. A thick and heavy coughing erupted and sounded so painful I winced.

"You're being absurd, Severus," she continued, raising her voice as footsteps began to drop and move further away.

Severus?

I darted through her office to where she stood in the doorway facing the figure retreating down the hall. A large vein popped out on her head and she balled her fists as she watched.

"Fool," she growled.

I rested my hand on her arm.

"Let me try," I said soothingly. And then I took after him. He kept a strong pace and I only just caught up to him in the hall outside his quarters.

"Fancy meeting you here," I called out as he reached for the doorknob.

He whirled around and glared at me. His cheeks flushed pink and his eyes squinted painfully.

"Did she send you after me?" he asked hoarsely.

"Essentially," I said moving closer. In a rare moment of boldness I reached my hand up to his forehead and rested it there a moment before he jerked away, looking disgusted.

I managed not to react to the cooking heat radiating from him. Leaning over his arm that still clutched the doorknob, I pushed the door open the rest of the way.

"Go on then," I gestured into the room.

"What are you doing?" he asked warily.

"Don't argue with me, Severus," I tried to make my voice as severe as possible. I must have succeeded a bit because he looked taken aback at my tone. He walked into the room and I followed.

Amidst all the other thoughts bouncing through my mind I couldn't help but pause for a moment at the thought of being in Severus Snape's bedroom. Immediately after entering, there was a small sitting area with a couch and a small kitchenette off to the left. Far behind on the right, through an open door, was a large bed swathed in thick black blankets. Everything was black or a beautiful bottled green. All in all it was much prettier that I would have imagined.

He stood to the side staring at me with a seething intensity. I tried not to quake under his stare.

"If you go and lie down," I told him, "I'll bring you something for that fever. Is your throat sore? I could mix in a Cooling Potion in as well."

He said nothing.

"You may as well tell me," I sighed. "I'm going to make you take it no matter what and I'd think you'll want to get as much out of it as possible."

"A little," he answered finally, swallowing.

"Go lie down then," I said. "I'll be back in a minute."

With that, I rushed back to Madam Pomfrey who gladly helped me assort a collection of useful potions.

"Are you sure you don't mind staying with him?" she asked.

I assured her I did not and she smiled sadly.

"That's wonderful. I mean, it's far above your job description but he really is quite ill. Now hurry back before he decides to lock you out."

She pushed a basket into my arms and I sprinted all the way back. Snape had ignored my request and now sat on his couch, perusing a Potions text. He eyed me stonily when I returned.

"All right then," I said, trying to remain cheerful. "This should calm your fever and coughing and cool your throat."

He took the vial from me muttering under his breath. It may have been thanks but I suspected it was just as likely a swear word. He dashed it down with one quick gulp and didn't even flinch, although I'm sure it tasted horrible.

"Now then," he said handing the vial back to me. "Are you done playing nurse? Will you leave me alone?"

"Nope," I said, forcing a smile. Putting on the air of bravery, I crossed the room and sunk into a large arm chair. I reached for an old copy of The Daily Prophet and lazily leafed through it, doing my best to pretend I didn't see Snape glowering at me.

"So you're going to just stay here, then?" he asked, his tone seething.

I glanced up as though only just noticing him. "I'm going to stay_ here_," I told him, indicating the living area. "If you'd like privacy I believe there's a very comfortable bed available in the next room."

"And I'm to expect you're not going to follow me?"

"Oh, I'll check up every so often. But you really just need to sleep. I don't imagine my presence will do much for that."

He started muttering again. This time I was sure I heard a swear word mixed in with some comment about how useless my presence was to start. Soon though, his muttering changed into a fit of that deep and painful coughing I had heard earlier.

I went swiftly to the kitchen where I found a glass. I filled it from my wand with ice water and hurried back to him.

He was coughing too hard to show any real sign of reproach and took the glass from me willingly. He took a few long draughts and then slowly inhaled, as though to ensure the irritation had left. Tears stood in his eyes and he trembled as he put the glass onto the table.

"Please Professor," I said in a low voice. "Please try to get a little sleep."

His eyes met mine again, and I could see they had lost some of the ire. He nodded slowly and then rose. And then he started to fall.

I stood quickly up beside him, wrapping my arm around his lower back.

"What did you put in that potion?" he barked.

"Nothing that would act this quickly," I replied, concerned. I reached again for his forehead and this time he did not pull away.

"Your fever's spiking," I told him. "We need to get you into bed immediately."

He let me help him to his bed, all the while shivering. After I helped him lower himself onto the comforter I summoned a basin and washcloth from the bathroom. I filled the former with another stream of cool water and dipped the cloth in it. Gently I rung it out and laid it across his burning forehead.

He winced as the cool water hit him but kept his eyes closed, almost as if trying to hide from me.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I know that's uncomfortable. When your temperature goes down though, it'll start to feel good."

"Learn that at the Muggle school did you?" he croaked irritably.

"Rest your throat," I shushed.

I dipped the cloth again and ran it gently over his forehead and temples. Slowly, almost imperceptively I noticed the muscles in his jaw relaxing and his head sinking deeper into the pillow. After a quarter of an hour his shivering had stopped completely. I dropped the cloth into the basin and withdrew my wand.

"_Celciate_," I said quietly, pointing it at his head. A dark, swirling mist issued out the end of my wand forming the numbers _38.1_. Much better.

I put my wand away and turned back to see him looking at me. His large eyes were dripping with fatigue. There was no hint of the usual anger they held, instead a definite trace of shame.

"Your fever's gone way down," I told him. "You had me worried there for a minute."

He nodded.

"Thank you," he said. It wasn't the first time he'd thanked me, but it was surely the first time he hadn't dropped his head and lowered his voice as though it hurt him.

I smiled. "Sleep now," I said. "I'll bring you something to eat in a little while."

"You really needn't stay," he said uncomfortably.

His tone made my heart ache. I longed to brush his hair from his face, kiss his forehead, and assure him I would stay as long as he needed me. Instead I only smiled again.

"Sleep now," I repeated. And I left quickly before I could do him the disgrace of seeing him fall asleep.

**SSSSSSSS**

In the moment I felt the distinctive beginning of Snape's convalescence. It would be trying, I was sure but this first concession was a big step for him. Hopefully it would become easier in coming days to get him to accept the help he needed.

Now I surveyed the sitting room again, wondering how best to pass the time while he slept. It didn't even occur to me to leave but I felt uncomfortable staying. I knew that, were he more aware, my unsupervised presence would incense him. I resigned myself to the thought that I would only touch those items in plainest view, not even daring to browse through the mini-fridge or lift the periodicals to see the ones underneath.

With this rule in mind, I plucked the first book from the shelf that held the remotest interest for me, _Regional Plantlife in Everyday Potion Making- Northern Great Britain._ I curled up on the small sofa and starting flicking idly through it.

I had only started to drift off from boredom about an hour later when there was a knock on the door. Throwing the book down, I rushed to answer it before the sound could wake my patient.

But Dumbledore waited quite patiently in the hall, holding a steaming cauldron and humming faintly to himself. If he was surprised to see me answering the door, he didn't show it.

"Good evening Headmaster," I blushed. I, of course, was unable to hide my surprise.

"Hello Miss Pendergraft. How are you this evening?" he said conversationally.

"I'm goo- well. I'm well, thank you. And you?"

"Very well," he answered politely. "Although I'm sorry to hear Professor Snape can't say the same. How is he?"

"Sleeping," I said. "His fever's down a bit, so that's good."

"Glad to hear it," he said merrily. "For my part I brought him some soup."

"Chicken noodle?" I asked, peering into the cauldron.

"Cock-a-leekie," he corrected me and chuckled at my expression. "Very similar though."

"That's very kind of you, sir," I said and took it from him.

His eyes twinkled as he looked at me.

"And it's very kind of _you_ to stay here with him," he said.

I blushed again. "It's pretty much my job," I said with a shrug.

"Well I'm sure Professor Snape appreciates your work ethic."

"I imagine he'd appreciate my absence more," I said scornfully.

"Don't be so sure," Dumbledore answered with another meaningful glance. As he started to turn away he called back. "And please, if he enjoys the soup make sure you tell him I made it myself."

"And if he doesn't?" I laughed.

"I'll deny ever being here."

I chuckled as he disappeared down the hall. When I reentered Snape's quarters I could hear him moving in the bedroom. I crossed quickly to him, hoping to stop him from rising unnecessarily.

"Oh good, you're still here," he said sarcastically as I came in. His head lay listlessly against the pillow almost as though he thought my presence didn't even warrant eye contact. I was willing to bet, though, that raising his head was proving to be a very difficult task.

"You missed Dumbledore," I said, ignoring the insult.

Now Snape jerked into a sitting position. "What did he need?" he asked rapidly. "And why didn't you wake me?"

He closed his eyes as he spoke, surreptitiously waiting out the dizziness that must have arisen with his sudden movement.

"Sit back," I instructed firmly. "The headmaster only wanted to see how you were feeling. And to bring soup." I lifted the cauldron for him to see.

"Oh." He seemed unwilling to concede but sat back again anyway.

"Have you eaten today?" I asked.

"No," he said. His tone was withering as though daring me to ask another question. So I did.

"Yesterday?"

"A bit." His mouth stayed almost completely closed when he spoke. It was actually impressive.

"Besides the half sandwich you ate while I was in your classroom?"

I took his silence as a 'no'.

"Would you like me to feed you?" I asked sweetly as I filled a bowl newly summoned from the kitchen.

"Don't be ridiculous," he spat. With great effort he pulled himself up and reached for the bowl. When he lifted the spoon I saw his hand tremble. A bit of the soup dripped off the spoon and he let it fall with a clatter.

Immediately I felt guilty for teasing him.

"Here," I said gently, reloading the spoon and holding it to his lips. He reluctantly opened his mouth to let in a sip of the steaming broth. Admittedly it smelled pretty good. By the way his lips turned up when he swallowed I imagined it didn't taste half bad either.

Generously, I decided to change the subject from the task at hand.

"It's pretty amazing to think of someone as important as Dumbledore making soup. I mean, you'd think he would consider these things to be beneath him."

"They are beneath him," Snape said quietly after a third bite.

"I don't know that," I said thoughtfully. "It's pretty great that he cares so much about people."

"He cares a bit too much," Snape said with a sigh. I frowned and waited for an explanation. I didn't get one, though, but his eyebrows remaining furrowed and I knew he was still thinking about it.

As I held out the spoon for another bite he raised his hand as though to block me. I was confused for only a moment before he whipped forward with a quick and violent sneeze. The steaming soup spilled everywhere.

My first thought was fear that he had burned himself. My second was pain when I realized only I had been burned. The skin along my right arm became quickly red as I hurriedly mopped the broth off.

I looked up to see an expression on Snape's face I had never before seen. His eyes crinkled in pity and his cheeks flushed with shame.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled thickly. "I'm so sorry."

I tried to smile through the pain.

"It's okay," I said lightly. "It's not that bad."

He ignored me, instead looking tiredly at the burned area. Slowly he turned to his bedside table and pulled the washcloth I had used earlier to wipe his brow. He handed it to me and I gratefully draped it over my arm.

The relief was instantaneous and I sighed. When I looked up at him again the emotion was once more masked on his face.

"If you didn't insist on being an interfering brat you wouldn't be burned right now."

He looked startled when I laughed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 10**

The next day was strikingly similar to the first of Professor Snape's illness. He alternated between sleeping and insulting me while I mixed potions carefully designed for his symptoms. When his fever rose again in the mid-afternoon I spent another hour beside his bed, toweling the heat from his skin and re-soaking the towel when it got too warm. At one point I paused and pressed my wand to his chest to magnify the sound of his breathing. The crackling that accompanied his breaths did not surprise me but I was alarmed nonetheless.

Afterwards he fell into a very deep sleep and I snuck into the sitting room. I had collected a few of my own books to read when I went to the Hospital Wing to get Burn Tonic the day before, and now I sat down with that month's _Magical Medicine Journal._

I found this to be a very pleasant way to spend the afternoon and spent hours in a glaze of reading and drinking tea; something I was finding more agreeable these days. It was only when I heard dry coughing from the bedroom that I was roused from my reverie. Instead of rushing right to Snape's side, though, I glanced back at the article I had just read with an idea.

**SSSSSSS**

"I thought I wasn't supposed to be out of bed," Snape grumbled as I moved forward to brace his form as he rose.

"I'm not an invalid," he snapped, pulling away from me.

"You kind of are," I pointed out. Still I allowed him some distance as he followed me into the bathroom.

I pushed open the door to the bathroom and a thick blanket of steam enveloped us. The shower ran behind us.

"So you're going to bathe me now, are you?" he sneered.

"You wish," I joked lightly. "Go sit on the toilet."

I leaned over the sink and stirred the mix of eucalyptus oil and chamomile I had started boiling a bit earlier. The smell it released was cold on my lungs and I was confident it would work wonders for Snape.

Sure enough, I looked over to where he sat and noticed him coughing softly to himself. His nose seemed to be running a bit too and he sniffled discretely.

"Here," I passed him a fresh handkerchief and then slid down onto the floor across from him.

"And what purpose is your presence serving now?" he said, quoting me back at myself. He blew his nose thickly.

"For you? Nothing," I said crossing my legs. "But steam is great for the pores."

I stretched and wound my hair into a bun behind my head, using my weight to hold it in place when I leaned back again.

He muttered again and this time I thought I made out the word "conceited." I chuckled mirthlessly trying to ignore the fact that his constant abuse was starting to get to me.

I closed my eyes and we sat for awhile in silence. I was pleased to hear his coughing grow both more productive and less frequent. Additionally the scented steam that made his nose run was also making him sneeze.

"Bless you," I said after the third, ear-shattering sneeze had wrenched me from my daydream.

"Must you say that every time?" he bellowed.

I opened my eyes a bit but could hardly see through the steam.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled. After the hundred previous insults it was strange that this one finally got to me. Perhaps it was the yelling or perhaps it was just my own fatigue becoming too much but I felt a tear drop down my cheek. I was intensely grateful then for the thick steam.

Another tear joined the first and I swallowed roughly to keep from making any noise.

"What time is it anyway?" he asked.

I swallowed again and tried to clear my throat before answering. My efforts were in vain, of course, and my voice warbled emotionally when I responded that it was nearly seven.

The silence after my words was a hundred times worse. I could almost feel him blindly trying to study me.

"I'm sorry," he said in a tone gentler than I could have imagine. "I shouldn't have yelled."

I forced a laugh and frantically wiped my face although the tears continued to fall.

"No, no it's fine. I know I can be pretty irritating." My voice still sounded disgustingly choked up.

Another interminable moment passed. Then…

"Why did you stay with me?" His voice held no trace of anger or impatience. The question put out was so unguarded and innocent I stopped crying immediately.

"You needed me," I said simply.

"I told you I didn't." There was a hair more sharpness to his tone now.

"But you still did," I insisted. "I could tell."

"Did Dumbledore ask you to?" I could tell he was still suspicious of my motives. It hurt me to think that he had so much trouble believing someone was willing to help him. I considered for a moment before responding slowly and carefully.

"No, he didn't. He only let me see what was necessary. I think he knew what I'd do. But he didn't ask me to."

"What do you mean 'he let you see'? What has he told you?" His tone was again dubious.

"Enough," I said simply. I took a long slow breath. I was desperate to put into words the way I felt about this brave, self-sacrificing man. And in this moment, I did.

"I think you're a hero," I said, letting the statement linger in the darkness. I expected no response and received none. I was unable, even, to study his response through the steam. Maybe it was a good thing.

After another minute passed I spoke again, quickly as usual. "It's pretty hot in here. We should probably get you out now. I hoped it's helped."

"It's helped a lot," he said quietly.

He rose and headed out of the room while I stayed behind to turn off the shower and stop the water in the sink from boiling. I wiped a spot on the mirror and stared at my puffy red eyes and nose.

'Well that won't do,' I thought. _"Redusco,"_ I muttered at myself. My face went back to normal and I tried to smile at my reflection.

Back in the bedroom, Snape was sitting up on the edge of the bed staring at the floor. I went to him and pressed my hand against his forehead.

"You're feeling a little bit warm again," I said. "Would you like another Fever Draught?"

He shook his head. "I'm alright just now," he said, still looking at the ground.

"Do you think you could sleep a bit?" I persisted gently.

He nodded but turned to face me instead of lying down.

"Last month at the Three Broomsticks," he started hesitantly. "When you sang, it was… beautiful."

It was a compliment too sincere for thanks. I only smiled serenely and helped him to a lying position. I felt incredibly tranquil as though crying had released any bit of stress built up in the past months.

Calmly I drifted my hand to the top of his head and brushed his hair from his face. He closd his eyes but did not move away from my touch. I traced my hand back and repeated the motion until I was rhythmically caressing his warm head.

I started humming an old Western song my mother used to sing to me as a child. Occasionally I would mix in lyrics but mostly I just let the notes move through the back of my throat. After awhile, he fell asleep and I left him alone again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 11**

The next morning I was curled up on the Snape's couch munching on some toast when he emerged from the bedroom. His face had more color then I'd seen in days but he continued to sniffle as he greeted me solemnly.

"Good morning," I responded, staring critically at him. "You're feeling better I take it?"

"Much better," he said with a weak sneeze.

"Or rather you're just tired of looking at the ceiling in your bedroom?" I asked. I pointed my wand at the fire. "Incendio," I muttered and smiled at the dancing flames that erupted.

"At least sit down," I said.

"You're not going to banish me back to bed, then?" he asked gruffly, coming to sit beside me.

I shrugged. "You look better."

There came a knock at the door and I rose. "But don't get off that couch," I warned as I walked away.

A smiling Dumbledore greeted me from the hall. "I heard Severus is feeling better," he said, stepping in.

"How could you possibly?" I was incredulous. I turned on the sick man. "Have you been sending him owls or something?"

"I've been petitioning for my release ever since you took me hostage," he answered. But there was a definite hint of humor behind his eyes.

"Well isn't it cheery in here?" Dumbledore commented, taking a chair beside the fire. "And you look much better Severus. How are you feeling?"

Snape assented that he was feeling better and squirmed a bit in his seat. I suspected the attention made him uncomfortable and I quickly jumped in offering to make a pot of tea.

"Have you started drinking it then?" Dumbledore asked with interest.

Snape snorted from his place on the couch.

I whirled on him. "I'm sorry, were you saying something?"

"I beg your pardon Headmaster, but what she makes is _not_ tea," he addressed Dumbledore exclusively while I stood beside them with my hands on my hips. "She steeps it for a quarter of an hour and then adds about a pound of sugar."

"It's the only way to get any real flavor out of it," I declared defensively. "And I don't see you offering to make it."

"I would if you'd let me anywhere near the kitchen," he retorted with a scowl.

Dumbledore chuckled at our fighting and I couldn't help but smile along. Until Snape gasped suddenly.

He winced and I rushed to his side in concern. Before I got there he held up a hand to stop me while looking down at his forearm.

"He wants to see us," Snape said in a low voice.

Dumbledore sighed sadly. "I'm sorry, Severus," he said as the Potions Master rose to find his cloak.

I looked between them. "Now?" I asked, dejected. "But you're still sick."

Snape sneered in a look I hadn't seen on him since the day before. "I don't imagine the Dark Lord will care," he said coldly.

I said nothing, breathing rapidly and trying not to panic. It was foolish of course to worry about his health when he was required to endanger himself on a daily basis. Still, as he threw the Floo Powder into the fire and I watched him cough into the back of his hand, I felt terribly helpless.

**SSSSSSS**

That feeling persisted and soon I was pacing the floor before the fireplace. Dumbledore stayed the whole time sitting calmly in his armchair and answering my infrequent questions.

When Snape first left, the headmaster assured me that most of their meetings lasted only a few minutes. He said that You Know Who often liked to summon Death Eaters, on occasion, just to see how quickly they would show up. It sounded like a basic intimidation tactic to me and briefly I was no more afriad of the Dark Lord than I would be a power hungry office manager. Then another half hour went by.

"He regards Professor Snape very highly, doesn't he?" I asked once, pausing in my quick tours of the living room. "That is, he probably wouldn't risk him unecessarily, right? If he's a spy, he must be really valuable."

Dumbledore only smiled and nodded. Although this answered nothing, I was still a bit calmed by his composure. I sat down for a full five minutes before I resumed pacing.

"He really shouldn't be out of bed at all…" I started to say when there was a flash of light and the Potions Master stepped back in through the fireplace. He was dripping wet from head to toe and his eyes furrowed with unease.

Automatically I stepped toward him but was stopped when he raised a hand.

"I need to speak to the Headmaster," Snape said, looking only at Dumbledore.

"At least take something hot first," I said. "You're drenched."

"It can wait," he said firmly, turning to stare at me.

Briefly I looked between them and decided any argument would be fruitless. I tried to ignore the visible shiver that ran down Snape's spine as I relegated myself to waiting in the hallway. Morosely I sat in the hall floor, my knees pressed into my chest and my head resting against them. If I weren't so nervous, I probably could have fallen asleep that way. There was certainly enough time.

After, what may have been an eternity, Dumbledore stepped out the door. He shot me a smile that did not quite reach his eyes.

"He's all yours again, Miss Pendergraft. Don't be too hard on him."

Then he rushed off to work through the news Snape brought with him and I rushed in to tend my patient.

He was sitting at the edge of the sofa, his jaw trembling as he shivered. After my first step in the door though, the shivers abruptly stopped and I could tell he was clenching his teeth to stubborn to show his discomfort.

I took out my wand and pointed it at the tip of his cloak.

"_Secario,"_ I said. A square of material instantly became lighter as it dried and the effect spread like a fire up his body. I reached out and grasped his hand with a diagnostic professionalism. Unsuprisingly it felt as thought it had been submerged in ice water.

"You're freezing," I murmured as I pulled a blanket from behind him over his shoulders. He winced at the attention but did not shrug it off as I had expected.

"Millie's going to bring by a fresh pot of tea," I said. "Since mine is such crap."

It had been a joke this morning, but now my words fell flat. In fact, when he looked up at me he seemed annoyed.

"When he calls I have to go," he said in a low tone. "My _wellbeing,"_ the word was odious to him, "is of very little consquence in this war."

"I'm not an idiot," I snapped. He looked startled.

"I know that circumstances require you to be in constant danger. I know that you're nothing but a pawn and that, in the grand scheme, your well-being means nothing. I know all this," I took a breath. It was easily the longest speech I had made that wasn't a fumbling apology. And I wasn't done.

"But I care," I said softly. "And I don't have to like it."

He stared at me for a long time after that, with his unreadable eyes. Indeed he only broke away when he started to cough again. Then I took his elbow and helped him back to bed.

**Chapter 12**

Snape's "outing" provided the anticipated setback in his recovery. He spend the rest of that day in bed drifting in and out of sleep. I charmed a magazine to whack me on the head every three hours as a reminder to check his fever or offer nourishment.

The first few times the alarm really wasn't necessary. I spent a long time after putting him to bed, just sitting by the fire wallowing in the day's events. By late afternoon, though I found myself starting to drift off during the interim.

I almost took the charm off to allow myself a few more hours when Snape's fever spiked again and my vigilence was refreshed. That night I spent in the chair beside his bed, bathing his forehead and forcing him to drink whenever he stirred.

The next morning was better and the afternoon better than that. His fever was almost completely gone from my first magazine attack of the day and I was content to let him stay asleep. I went back to the couch and whenever I checked in on him his face was no longer tensed with pain. He only slept like a weary man and not an ill one.

Now, I knew, I could probably stand to sleep a few hours myself. Around six, though, the magazine started again to hit me upside the head. Mechanically I went to check on Professor Snape only to find his forehead cool and his breathing steady.

When I went back to the living room, I realized that the magazine was still attacking me.

"_Eparacio,"_ I commanded, trying to remember the exact charm I had used.

My attempt, it seemed, only served to make it angry and the magazine began to seize wildy in the air. I tried a couple more counter-charms before giving up and tying the pages together with my hair scrunchie. It flailed angrily against the restraint.

I looked at the clock again and then back at the bedroom. My stomach rumbled hungrily and I decided it was probably fine to nip out a bit for dinner. Professor Flitwick would be able to undo my clumsy magic and I'd be able to eat a real meal. _It's really just good sense_, I told myself. _Can't exactly have Snape's books attacking him as he recuperates._

With these justifications in mind I took eagerly off for the Great Hall. Students were already pouring into the room and I squeezed inelegantly between them.

"Snape was out again today," I overheard a fourth year Ravenclaw telling her friend.

"Brilliant," the younger girl exclaimed. "I haven't even started my essay. Hope he's out the rest of the week."

Flitwick chuckled merrily at my charm before undoing it with ease.

"Thanks," I gushed as the periodical dropped into my lap and I reached forward to serve myself some rataouille.

"Not at all," he tittered. "How's Severus doing anyway?"

"Much better," I said around a mouthful of food. "His fever's almost completely gone and he can talk now without coughing up a lung. Oh but remind me, I might need help undoing the Body-Bind I had to put on him to keep him from getting out of bed."

Flitwick laughed in such a way that I was sure he didn't know if I was joking. I cracked a smile and he looked relieved. Professor McGonagall joined in laughing.

"Bless you, Xaria, your patience must be eternal," she said when she was done. "He was badly bitten a few years back by a thestral and even with six of us pleading for hours he still wouldn't take a Pain Potion."

"He is a stubborn one," Flitwick agreed, tucking into his own meal.

I considered their comments while I quickly finished my dinner and excused myself.

Snape was sitting on his sofa when I returned to his quarters and the way he looked up at me, I wondered if I should have knocked before entering.

"You're up," I said lightly as I crossed the room. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, thank you," he replied shortly. There was a quilt drapped over his shoulders but he let it fall as I entered. A book rested open in his lap.

I stared a moment at his upright and alert expression. It seemed an imposition to examine him now. But it was my job.

"May I?" I asked, holding my wand out.

He nodded curtly and I pressed its tip into his chest.

"Inhale and exhale deeply," I instructed as the sound of his breathing was magnified in the room.

The large breaths forced him to cough a bit, leaning away from me as he did, but I was relieved to observe that the crackling sound was gone. I ran my fingers along his glands and then, uncessarily, pressed my hand into his forehead. All the while his dark eyes studied me patiently.

"Well?" he asked when I leaned back.

"I'd say if you feel well enough in the morning, you can work tomorrow."

He nodded slowly before raising his eyes to mine. His lips parted and he was about to speak when there was a sharp rapping at the door.

A skinny redhaired girl quaked when I answered. She seemed relieved to find me but did a slight double take when she glanced Snape sitting behind.

"Please Miss Pendergraft," she said in a pleasently high voice. "Madam Pomfrey says if you can be spared she would really like your help in the Hospital Wing."

"What happened?" I asked, alarmed.

"There was a fight between some Gryffindor and Slytherin boys," she answered, rolling her eyes. "Idiots, all of them."

Immediately I felt Snape behind me.

"Which ones?" he thundered. Well, thundered may not have been right since his voice was still a bit weak. The effect though, was the same and the girl trembled.

Before she could answer I turned on him. "That's not your concern," I said sharply. "I gave you permission to go to work tomorrow. Right now, you're still on sick leave."

"These are my students," he growled, turning his anger on me.

"Professor Snape," the girl chimed in timidly. He whirled around on her, eyes like fire. Really I was quite proud of her for not fleeing at that moment.

"No one's seriously hurt, sir," she said, trying to make her voice steady. "It was a stupid fight about Quidditch. Professor McGongall's really got a handle on it, sir. You really don't need to…"

"Don't tell me what I do or do not need to do, Miss Weasley," he seethed.

"Honey," I said kindly to the girl. "Go on and tell Madam Pomfrey I'll be there in a minute."

I waited until she disappeared before looking back at Snape, slowly pulling his boots on.

"Stop," I said firmly. "You're not going down there."

"And why not?" His eyes flashed.

"Seriously?" I gaped. "Um, how about because you've been sick all week and traipsing around a dark, cold castle late at night will do absolutely nothing for you."

He was practically spitting when he replied. "But if it was Potter and his friends I want to be there to…"

"I'll be there," I interrupted. "I'll find out what happened. Don't worry, no guilty student will escape without severe lashings. I promise."

His expression caused a ripple of anger to surge through me.

"You don't trust me?" I asked. "After all this and you don't trust me to get the story out of a couple of dumb students?"

"It's just…" his protest trailed off and I could see I had won.

"Bed," I declared, pointing in that direction. "I'll see you at breakfast."

I closed the door behind myself and headed heatedly back to work.

**SSSSSS**

A/N: Thanks a bunch to the reviewers. You guys rule.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 13**

But I didn't see him at breakfast. Not that he wasn't there. I sent Millie on a recon mission to let me know that he was up and about. No, I didn't make it.

When Ginny Weasley had said a "few" boys I hadn't considered the English habit of understatements. The entire Quidditch teams from both Gryffindor and Slytherin were littered throughout the corridor of the Hospital Wing. Each was cursed or hexed and, of course, none had the same. To make matters worse, no Slytherin or Gryffindor could be within ten feet of each other without another duel threatening.

We split the kids up by teams and I spent the night treating, among others, the Horn-Tongue Hex, The Leek Jinx, and my all time favorite, the Hurling Hex. This impromptu refresher on Counter Spells was definitely made no easier by Professor McGonagall flying between rooms and screeching at the top of her lungs at whichever student she laid eyes on.

By the time we had fixed everyone we could, and got beds for everyone who needed more treatment, it was after 9 am. I was about to ask Madam Pomfrey for the morning off when I caught her falling asleep at her desk. Pityingly I offered to watch the wing while she took a nap.

I wasn't doing much better myself, with the nights escapades snowballing with the lack of sleep from the previous days as Professor Snape's personal nurse. My head ached from holding my eyes open and I was ready to bite the head off the next patient complaining about the unfairness of McGonagall's punishments.

"Well maybe you shouldn't have jinxed both their Chasers," I snapped at a whining Slytherin girl.

Around noon Madam Pomfrey reappeared looking refreshed but very concerned. She raced directly to my side where I was debating putting a Silencing Charm on one of the Gryffindor Beaters.

"I'm so sorry, dear," she began in a pleading tone. "I completely forgot that you've been working non-stop for the past few days. I can't imagine you got much sleep on Professor Snape's couch."

"_You_ were the one who nursed Snape?" the Quidditch player beside me gasped. "Thanks a lot. Now I'll have to turn in my essay."

Madam Pomfrey got my wand away from me just in time.

"Go," she persisted, literally pushing me out the door. "Get some lunch and then take the rest of the day off. Lord knows you've earned it."

I had only peeked my head through the Great Hall when I noticed the empty chair. Millie had said he seemed well at breakfast. Could he possibly have relapsed during the morning?

It only took me a moment to realize that it wasn't illness that kept Snape from dining with everyone else.

"What are you doing here?" he asked partially surprised and partially irritated as I pushed the dungeon door open with my toe.

"Are you serious?" I asked, trying hard not to spill the tray. "I thought you'd picked up on this one by now."

Even as I said it I felt my stomach drop. Of course he was tired of seeing me. It was ludicrous to think otherwise. I'd been his only company for nearly a week and now that he was finally back to his beloved solitude, here I was crashing through his door.

Myself flagellation was cut short but a clipped cough from Snape. I glanced at where he sat behind a pile of test parchments nearly as tall as himself. Although he stared down at me with the usual intensity I could still see the bags under his eyes. He wore a thick turtleneck sweater under his robes and a box of tissues was perched on the spare edge of his desk. And I remembered why I was here.

"You remember…" I continued. "Sandwiches and pumpkin juice and delightful conversation while we fail your students."

His eyes narrowed. "You're not working this afternoon?"

"I've got the afternoon off."

He looked back at his papers and made a quick mark on the top parchment.

"You should go," he said.

I finally put down the tray and cocked my head. He couldn't be sore with me already. We were getting along so much better recently.

"But the sandwiches?" I asked. "The delightful conversation…?"

He replaced his quill into a bottle of ink with a sharp _ping _and stared up at me.

"You should take your afternoon off and catch up on some sleep. I don't imagine you've gotten much in the past week. It's a miracle you haven't caught this infernal cold already."

My eyes widened. Was Severus Snape showing concern for me? The thought was almost too much.

"Sir," I protested uncomfortably. "I don't mind helping out a bit. You really shouldn't push yourself on your first day back."

Abruptly he rose and paced towards me. A few inches from my face he stopped and stared down his hooked nose at me. It was an intimidation tactic I'd seen him use on many students. And yet thought my heart raced, I wasn't exactly intimidated. When he spoke his voice was almost inaudible.

"_I_ am more than on the mend. And I won't have you pushing yourself past fatigue and risking your own health. Now go get some rest." The speech ended in a gentle undertone.

I could think of nothing to say.

"Well, okay then," I fumbled.

He turned in a flash and whisked back to his seat. "Besides you look exhausted. You're no use to me like this."

"I'll see you around, Professor," I said through a smile. He waved his hand at me, fully absorbed again by his grading.

**Chapter 14**

When I first laid down in my own bed, my head whirled with the memory of our most recent conversation. I had never seen his manner so gentle. Was I mad to think there might be a hint of affection behind his concern for me? With this question throbbing in my mind there was no way I'd be able to sleep. Or so I thought.

The next time I rolled over it was after six in the evening. I guess Snape had been right about my needing sleep. I could have easily dozed off for another few hours. Knowing this, I forced myself out of bed and peered out the window. The sun was almost set but a thin sliver of red light still bathed the grounds. Suddenly a delayed sense of cabin fever hit me and I was desperate to get out of the castle.

I decided to skip dinner in the Great Hall and head over to The Three Broomsticks for a bite and some fresh company. I knew that if I didn't start socializing in a wider circle, I was likely to become obsessed. So I bundled up and headed out the front door of the castle, even resisting the urge to poke my head into the dining room for a quick glimpse.

**SSSSSSS**

"You look like hell," Leola commented as she brought me a basket of fish and chips.

"Leave me alone," I said, stifling a yawn and vainly trying to smooth down my hair. "I've barely slept in a week."

"Why's that?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder. When she saw that Rosmerta was busy, she leaned into a chair beside me and stole a fry.

"You know Snape, the Potions Professor? He's been hella sick all week and I've been looking after him."

"Poppy wouldn't share the task with you, then?"

"He wouldn't stay in the Hospital Wing," I said with another yawn. "So I stayed with him."

"Stayed with him?" she asked, stealing another fry before I could swat her hand. "That part of your job description, is it?"

"Not exactly." I hoped she wouldn't notice me blushing.

But she smirked as her eyes darted to my red cheeks.

"Any particular reason you're so keen to go all above and beyond?" she asked slyly.

I shoved a large piece of fish into my mouth and didn't answer.

"Good Lord, Xaria the man's twice your age."

"That's not true," I responded, choking in my haste to correct her.

"He's old enough to be your father."

"Well he's not my father," I said childishly.

"Thank heavens for small favors."

I scowled as she ate another chip and was admittedly a little pleased when Madam Rosmerta popped up behind her.

"Aren't you supposed to be working?" she barked. Leola jumped about a foot.

"Cor, you scared me," she panted. "And look around. There's no one here, is there?"

Rosmerta grumbled but couldn't argue. She turned her gaze on me.

"I've got something you're going to love," she said with a twinkle in her eye. "Have you ever tried a shandygaff before?"

I smiled wearily. "Actually, I could really just go for a coffee. If you don't mind?"

"She hasn't slept lately. Been too busy looking after Snape and pretending she don't fancy him," Leola said around a mouthful of my food.

"Jesus, Lee," I cried as Rosmerta gaped. "Have you ever kept a secret?"

"Isn't he a bit erm… old for you, love?" Rosmerta asked carefully while I was shooting daggers at Leola.

"It's not really like that," I protested miserably. But what else could I say?

Leola swallowed a gulp of my water before speaking excitedly. "You know who'd be perfect for you? That bloke Oscar. You remember, the one who bought you a drink on Karaoke Night. He always asks about you, you know."

"He does?" I asked in a daze. Talking with Leola usually put me that way and sleep deprivation didn't help.

"Oh come on," she raced. "Let me set you two up."

"I dunno," I mumbled, glancing out the window. Suddenly I was eager to be back at the castle.

Rosmerta followed my gaze and then looked back down at me with a startled jump.

"Hagrid's not with you?" she asked apprehensively.

"Naw," I answered taking a sip of the coffee she had summoned over. "I just wanted a night out alone, you know."

She bit her lip nervously. "I don't know that that's wise nowadays," she said. "You really shouldn't be out alone at night."

"I'll be fine," I said with a wave of my hand, downing the rest of the coffee.

But Rosmerta seemed insistent that I get quickly back to Hogwarts. With Leola's nagging in my ear, I was quickly persuaded. I gathered my coat and made my way out with their voices trailing behind me.

"Go straight back," Rosmerta called.

"I'll tell him it's okay to send you an owl, then?" Leola joined in.

**SSSSSSSSS**

The night air was bitterly cold and I pulled my cloak tightly around myself as I scurried back. While Madam Rosmerta's warnings had seemed silly inside the warm and cozy pub, out here they seemed a bit more founded. Although I didn't think I had actually anything to fear, I found myself staring leerily at the shadows that grew and shrunk around me as I moved through them. Ultimately I was quite pleased to make it back into the warmth of the castle.

"Evening Argus," I called to Argus Filch, the caretaker, who usually spent his evenings prowling the halls in the search for misbehaved students.

"Good evening Miss Xaria," he replied with a sneer and a wave.

I smiled back and mounted the long winding staircase to my quarters. After an eternity of walking, during which I managed to warn a few Hufflepuff students that Filch was near, I finally was back on my hall. There was the shadowy outline of tall figure lurking by my door. My blood ran cold, for just a moment, before I saw who it was.

"Where have you been?" Snape's voice quivered with a barely constrained rage.

"Out," I said, feeling mildly rebellious.

"Alone?" He drew the word out in his silky tone.

I shrugged. "Only for the walk there and back."

These words, it seemed, served to cause the eruption I knew was inevitable.

"Are you mad?" he yelled hoarsely. "Or are you only a complete idiot?"

"Oh I don't know," I said sourly. "One or the other I suppose."

He gripped my shoulder tightly, forcing me to look at him.

"The Dark Lord has followers everywhere! Death Eaters who would string you up and kill you, or worse, for nothing more than their own amusement! If you think your wit will serve you then, by all means try it!"

He let go of me, breathing heavily. He was still recuperating and the tirade left him completely spent.

"What did you want, anyway?" I asked sullenly brushing some hair from my eyes.

"What?" he barked.

"Why did you come looking for me?" I said again pointing at my door. He looked almost surprised to remember where we were.

"You weren't at dinner," he said uncomfortably. "I was…"

But he cut himself off, spinning on his heel and marching down the hallway. I turned to watch him depart. Had been about to say that he was worried about me? I could hardly breathe. His quick retreat paused abruptly and I watched his shoulders tense up as he bent forward in a loud sneeze.

"Bless you," I whispered. And I went back into my room.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 15**

After being banned so unceremoniously from Snape's classroom, and then later being verbally flayed outside my own room, I decided to grant him a bit of the space he seemed to covet so strongly.

So it was with great difficulty that I did not rush to his side on the afternoons I found him absent from lunch. It was even harder for me not to bombard him questions about his health when I did see him. Not that I wasn't keeping an eye on him, of course. The dry cough seemed to linger with him and he ate very little at the meals he did attend.

One morning, when he seemed particularly weary, he gave into a short sneezing fit at breakfast. Each powerful sneeze was pinched tightly and was nearly noiseless although his forehead crinkled at the pain of it. His miserable silence afforded him the obscurity he craved and I knew that only I noticed. That morning I broke my vow and floated a fresh handkerchief down the staff table to him when he had finally stopped sneezing. He looked at it appreciatively but only gave me the slightest of nods before wiping his nose surreptitiously.

For his own part, Snape did not seem to suffer at all from my absence in his days. I found that when I wasn't the one to initiate eye contact, he scarcely looked at me. If we were in a situation where neither could be ignored, such as when he brought a disobedient Gryffindor fourth year to the Hospital Wing foaming at the mouth, he would simply bow his head politely. His greetings were not unkind but rather indifferent. I found this to be the most painful of all.

One morning, over a week after Snape had bellowed at me, I was surprised to receive an owl during the morning post. I felt my face flush as the rest of the staff turned curiously towards me. I didn't often receive mail. Covertly I unfolded a wrinkled note beneath the table while the tiny post owl stole my bacon.

_Fancy going for a drink tonight? Let me know what works for you. –Oscar_

I crumpled it up in my fist, cursing Leola in my head. _Although_, I reasoned, _she may have a point_. Seeing a man socially wouldn't be the worst thing for me. I pondered this while slowly chewing on a piece of orange.

My thoughts were interrupted by Dumbledore's cheery voice from down the table.

"Good morning, Severus," he said as the man slunk in beside him. "And happy birthday."

Snape mumbled his thanks coldly as though daring anyone else to wish him well. My ears had perked at Dumbledore's words and, when I raised my head, it was the first time I ever caught Snape looking at me first.

At first glance I thought that his look was a threat for me to keep my mouth shut. It was, of course, the look I was most used to getting from him. It was only the faint glimmer in his eye as he turned away that made me wonder if he hadn't wanted me to hear Dumbledore.

With this consideration I tucked into my cereal with renewed vigor.

**Snape POV**

I strode rapidly away from the dungeons as soon as my last detention student had sulked out. With any luck I would have a bit of time to myself this evening to sort through some much neglected correspondence. Indeed as I paced through the castle I was fortunate to encounter no students either requiring me to either assist them with a menial task or punish them for being idiots.

Until, of course, I crossed the last hall to my private quarters. After I was hired, Dumbledore had heeded my request for privacy and I was the only staff member living on the wing. I was expecting to meet no one as I turned the last corner and was thrown nearly to the ground by Xaria Pendergraft.

"Look where you're going," I snapped automatically as she righted herself against the wall.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled coloring slightly. I forced my stare from the pleasant pink color that rose to her cheeks to her eyes which shifted nervously.

"What are you doing down here?" I asked. Undoubtedly she was searching for more opportunities to meddle with my seclusion. The guilty look on her face made me wonder at what I may have caught her if I'd arrived a moment earlier.

"Nothing," she said with only the slightest hint of defiance. "I mean, I was just leaving."

With that she scurried past me, stopping again only a few more feet down the hall. She turned back around to look at me and a very small part of me felt repentant for the fear apparent in her expression.

"Happy birthday, Professor," she said quietly before fleeing.

Her innocence unnerved me and I was relieved to see her go. I scowled at her retreating back but was unable to summon the anger I had felt only moments earlier. Still, I wondered at what sort of game she was playing.

Resurging annoyance was mingled with relief as I pushed open the door to my quarters. The darkness was inviting and only in solitude did the days stresses start to melt away.

I briskly lit a lamp and then considered the mail that awaited me. _Tea first,_ I thought as I made my way to the kitchenette. My voice had cracked in class earlier, a delightful after effect of this horrid cold, and a student had snickered. The student had been justly punished, of course, but the memory was still there. I had to tend to my voice to prevent further incidence.

Only after steam was issuing from the kettle did I notice that my favorite teapot was no longer on the table. In its place was a shining black pot with thinly drawn green curls running up its side. The simple decoration formed into an outline the precise likeness of the Slytherin serpent. There was a small, white card beside it bearing only a single line.

_Since I ruined your old one with my crappy tea._

I smiled in spite of myself.

**Chapter 16**

**Xaria POV  
**

As the weather began to grow warmer, I became increasingly unhappy staying inside the castle. While the students were escaping frequently to pass time outdoors, I found myself always busy. There were days when I hadn't even the time to leave the Hospital Wing, much less the castle. On these I was forced to content myself with staring out the window at lazily drifting clouds and blooming flower beds during my brief free moments.

When we weren't inundated with patients, I was busy studying for my Counter Jinx Exam. It was one of the many I would need to pass to complete my medi-witch certification. Working with the students proved an excellent opportunity to practice, as their tempers seemed to heat up with the weather. Scarcely a day passed when I didn't have a student present with uncontrollable tap dancing or soap bubbles bursting from the nostrils.

I didn't hear from Snape after his birthday. While I definitely didn't expect gratitude, the lack of acknowledgment made me suspect the worst. His rage at my being alone in his quarters probably outweighed anything else. Although if he'd asked I could tell him I'd had Millie bring it in when she changed his linens. He probably chucked it out, I thought miserably. I renewed my vow to establish distance between us.

I avoided the dungeons with the vigilance of a recovering alcoholic. Since I never had time to eat in the Great Hall anymore, I was freed from seeing him there as well. I started to accept that I may not see him again for the rest of the term. The thought was both relieving and unbearable.

I was very surprised, then, when I found him in Madam Pomfrey's office late March. I was going to ask her a question from my Counter Jinx workbook when I stopped short. He was sitting across her desk listening politely. He glanced up at me when I entered, flashing a fleeting smile, before turning back to the matron.

"So we'll need a few litres of Blood-Replenishing Potion," she was saying while looking at a piece of parchment. "We went through nearly all of it when Hagrid introduced bowtruckles last week. And we'll need a bit of Calming Drought. We'll need more during exams but it can't hurt to start stocking up."

Snape nodded as she went down her list, not bothering to take notes. His memory was perfect.

"And then more PepperUp of course, can never have too much of that," Madam Pomfrey went on. She looked up. "Do you have anything for seasonal allergies?"

"There is a Histamony Potion that seems to have good results," he answered. "Shall I make some of it up for you as well?"

"If you don't mind," she said, eyes back on her list.

"Not at all," he said. And without looking away from her, "Good morning Miss Pendergraft. I trust you're well."

"Uh, yeah I'm good," I replied, startled. "You?"

"I'm quite well, thank you."

"I think that's all for now Severus," Madam Pomfrey cut back in. "I'll send Xaria down to collect what you've got later this week."

He rose and inclined his head towards her and then to me before quickly striding from the room. I was left speechless in his absence.

"Did you have a question for me?" Madam Pomfrey broke in, looking at my book.

I turned to her with my mouth slightly open. Her brow furrowed at me.

"Are you alright? Your face is flushed."

I hurried to assure her I was fine and then scrambled to find the page in my book. I hardly heard her answer over the pounding of my heart.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 17**

I felt as though I had been thrown off the wagon. My thoughts were consumed with seeing Professor Snape, if only for the time it would take to retrieve a box of potions. Every afternoon that week I tried, casually, to ask if I should head on over to the dungeons. I tried to make my voice nonchalant as though the task were nothing more than a tedious chore. Brilliant and competent though she was, Madam Pomfrey did not seem so aware of matters of the heart and I was fortunate to escape notice of my dreamy obsession.

On Friday afternoon I was trying to administer a Calming Draught to a fifth year O.W.L. student who was having a massive panic attack in the Hospital Wing, when Madam Pomfrey appeared. The girl had her Transfiguration textbook held open with one hand while she mercilessly beat at me with the other.

"I can't take that just now," she screeched, her bloodshot eyes fixed maniacally on the book. "I have to finish this chapter."

"Have you picked up those potions from Professor Snape, yet?" Madam Pomfrey asked as calmly as though we were conversing over coffee.

"I didn't know they were ready yet," I answered as the girl smacked me in the face with her open fist.

"Oh yes, he sent me a note this morning. If you're too busy I can pop down and get them myself."

"I can do it," I answered quickly.

I wrenched my braid from between my patient's fingers and swiftly forced a spoonful of potion down her throat. She spluttered and tried to spit it out but I pressed the palm of my hand against her lips until she was forced to swallow it. Immediately her eyes lost their wild look and she slumped tiredly against the cot.

"I suppose I could stand a short nap," she murmured tiredly, pulling a blanket up to her chin, and falling instantly asleep.

**SSSSSSSSS**

Five minutes later I was in the hall outside the Potions room, frantically trying to comb through the knots in my hair with my fingers. The overworked student had done a real number on me. I took a deep breath, trying to still my rapid pulse, before knocking gently on the door.

After hearing the greeting, I pushed the door open and stood nervously, waiting for Snape to look up from his desk. I took that moment to observe the dark sheet of hair that fell over his face obscuring all but the glint of two sharp, dark eyes. When he glanced up, I managed to be already looking away.

He said nothing, but rose and strode past me to the back of the classroom. His cloak whipped around him when he walked and grazed my leg when he passed near me. For a moment he disappeared into the store room before returning with a large box, tinkling with the sounds of glass vials within.

"You will be able to carry it all?" he asked. But he set the box down instead of passing it right to me.

I nodded confidently, wanting to appear able. My eyes searched the vials. I hoped for an obvious question to present itself so I might prolong the conversation.

"If you drop or break anything in there, I won't be able to make more for awhile yet," he said in a warning tone as he leered over me.

"I can carry it," I insisted, now looking at him.

His black eyes were penetrating and my brief obstinacy disappeared at once. He observed me shrewdly for a moment.

"You seem tired," he said, finally breaking eye contact.

I trembled but forced myself to shrug.

"It's been a crazy few weeks," I answered. Was Snape trying to make conversation? Should I be more engaging?

"Plus I'm studying for the Counter Jinx mastery exam."

He nodded once and then slid back to his desk and took a seat. My shoulders dropped. I was being dismissed again.

I was astounded when he gestured to the chair across from his own.

"Would you like some tea?" he asked, as I practically fell into the chair.

"Is it caffeinated?" I asked instinctively. A tiny smirk drifted to his mouth.

"It is," he said smoothly.

"Then yes, please."

I tried not to stare as he poured out a small amount into two dark, handleless mugs. The teapot he used was the one I had purchased for him in Diagon Alley. The shiny surface was a bit smudged and I decided he had probably been using it. He drew no attention to it and I managed not to smile.

"How are you preparing for your exam?" he asked when I had taken a small sip. The taste was bitter and, before I asked, he had pushed a sugar bowl towards me. He himself took his tea black.

"I've read every volume of Leeson McGroody cover to cover," I said as I helped myself to a generous spoonful of sugar. "And Professor Flitwick has been recommending some more topical essays."

"No practical study?" His words were neither kind nor judgmental merely expressing an interest he had never before shown in me.

"Only what the kids come in with. Of course, that's not exactly insignificant."

He frowned thoughtfully and continued to stare deeply into my eyes as though I were saying something worth his attention. Then his gaze broke off.

"I can assist you with more active study if you wish," he said in an off-handed sort of way.

I nearly choked on my tea. He waited patiently for me to finish spluttering and regain the power of speech.

"Sir, that's very kind. But you really don't need to. I know how busy you already are."

He couldn't deny this and silence reigned again. I took a chance.

"How are you doing anyway?" It seemed an innocuous enough question, permitting him a range of possible answers.

"Dumbledore remains overly optimistic," he said in that same casual tone.

"Or realistically confident," I countered. Snape's gaze snapped to me and his eyes were shrewd and searching.

"The Dark Lord is not to be underestimated," he said darkly.

And now I finally fixed his gaze without a trace of fear.

"Neither are you," I said firmly.

He held my stare and for a long while it seemed that neither of us was willing to look away. I became gradually aware of how physically close we were; close enough that I could hear his soft breathing and study the frame of eyelashes around his black eyes. Despite our proximity and the tension mounting between us, I felt myself become very calm and I was glad to be right where I was.

In another moment I may have dared to lean forward. Before the thought had occurred to me, though, Snape had pulled back and dragged his eyes back to the scattered parchments littering his desk.

"You should get those potions back to Madam Pomfrey," he said quietly.

"Thank you for making them," I said evenly. Then I rose and departed before the moment could be broken.

**Chapter 18**

After our "moment" in the dungeons I gave up all attempts to stop thinking about Severus Snape. In my own mind I lusted after him shamelessly. Only amongst others did I try to retain a bit of poise. It seemed strange to me that not everyone was thinking of him all the time.

Snape, though, didn't seem to be thinking of me at all. I saw him only once that weekend; the reality of him cutting into the fantasies playing through my mind. I grinned broadly but he merely snarled and passed by without a word. It was confusing and hurtful and I longed for another chance to prove myself.

I started at once to eagerly anticipate the next chance I would have to see Snape. Surely a few minutes alone with him would provide me sufficient opportunity to continue where our tea had left off.

Monday afternoon I was folding sheets in the Hospital Wing, humming dreamily to myself when I heard a poignant throat clearing behind me.

I gasped and whirled to see Professor Snape clutching the arm of a very small, very frightened looking boy. The boy's eyes looked out at me as though searching for help.

"What's the matter?" I asked, hurrying over to them.

"I dunno," the boy whimpered.

"Quiet," Snape thundered at him. His mouth trembled with rage as he spoke to me without looking up.

"Mr. Creevey, here, has neglected to follow the simple procedures I've outlined for a Forgetfulness Potion."

"A what?" the boy asked, looked between us. "Are you talking about me?"

"Well that's easy enough to fix," I said, pulling out a wand. It was only a moment before Creevey regained a sense of awareness. The realization dawned in his eyes as I performed the spell but was quickly replaced by terror.

"Professor Snape," he began to plead, "I'm so sorry-"

"Silence," Snape growled at him. "Fifteen points from Gryffindor for being an absolute failure and wasting my time."

The boy trembled and tears welled up in his eyes. I could hardly bear it.

"Professor," I said quietly. "Do you really have to be so harsh?"

But when Snape looked over, there was fire in his eyes as he redirected his disgust on me.

"You would do well to learn when something is none of your business, Miss Pendergraft," he seethed.

I gulped. The way he was looking at me was so cold and foreign. There was none of the kindness I had started to see in him. Foolishly, I continued.

"It's just… he's only a kid," I stammered.

"I see," he said coolly. The boy looked back and forth between us, terrified. Snape turned his body to me, seeming to forget his student entirely.

"And I suppose I should coddle him? Allow him his failures with no hint of the repercussions that one day await him? And then what?" His voice dropped lower while somehow increasing in intensity.

"He will then approach life with a false sense of his own worth, believing himself to be of value to those around him. He will be weak and miserable and… cry," he stabbed the word, "when someone dares to point out his shortcomings. Is that what _you_ would recommend Miss Pendergraft?"

My face burned hot and my chest tightened. The boy sat invisible between us as Snape faced me with his full fury. I struggled to get a breath as we locked eyes.

"Fine," I said acidly. "I guess I'll leave it to you, then."

And I turned on my heel and sped from the room.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 19**

"I think you've had enough, love," Rosmerta said as she retrieved the empty glass from before me.

I blinked wearily and looked at her.

"Is Leola working tonight?" I asked groggily, not caring that my voice cracked as I spoke.

"I told you already, she's not," she replied gently.

That sounded vaguely familiar. I had the hazy sense that I had been here for awhile. Surely when I arrived the pub had been full of patrons. Now it was nearly empty.

"Is it very late?" I asked when I realized Rosmerta was still standing over me.

"A bit before midnight," she answered. She moved to sit next to me and I scooted clumsily over in the booth. She studied me for a moment while I stared intently at my hands.

"Is everything alright?" she asked softly.

"Oh, not so much," I said, tracing my finger along the edge of the table. "But I don't need to bother you with all that."

"It's no bother," she said casually.

"Oh, but it is," I assured her. "_I_ am. But no more. I'm. Not. Worth. It." I rapped my palm against the table with each word to emphasize my point.

"Where would you get such a foolish idea?" she snapped.

My eyes popped open and I stared at her. Even through my tipsy fog I realized something.

"But I'm doing it now, aren't I? I'm wallowing in my failures. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't waste your time. I'm sorry," I apologized again.

"Xaria…" she began. I cut her off.

"I'm sorry," I implored.

She smiled tightly.

"It's okay," she said, finally giving me the answer I needed. I grinned back gratefully and draped my arm over her shoulder.

"I'm glad things are good between us," I told her. "I couldn't leave knowing you were mad."

"You're leaving, then?" she asked sliding out from the bench as I tried to stand. "That's good. You should go home and sleep it off."

"You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here," I joked.

"Xaria," she said firmly, taking my hand. "Go home."

I smiled blissfully back before squeezing her hand and heading out of the pub.

The unseasonably cold air hit me like a slap in the face. A shiver ran down my spine and I hastened to pull the collar of my cloak up around my chin. Instantly, I began to feel the tinge of sobriety and cursed my low tolerance.

"I should have forced down another drink," I said aloud. "Then I would be drunk right now."

I twisted my whole body to look up at down the main drag of Hogsmeade. To my left I could begin on the lonely trek back to Hogwarts. Only I couldn't. Not yet. I spun to my right and felt the earth spin a moment behind me.

I walked all the way to the end of the long and twisted street and then took a left. I expected the path to end at any moment and was surprised when I soon had the chance to turn again. This time I chose right.

It took another twenty minutes to get to the end of this road where I chose right again. The cold air was driving itself down my cloak and every moment I felt the comforts of drink leaving me. Snape's words began to echo in my mind and I shook my head to banish them.

"Is that Xaria?" A man's voice called from behind me. I turned to see a newly opened door, casting the glow of light across the dark ground.

"Who's that?" I asked, squinting.

The guy who approached me looked only vaguely familiar.

"Oh that's nice," he said with a laugh. I was just starting to think that something about his laugh bothered me, when recognition dawned.

"Oscar!" I shouted, showing more excitement then I felt.

"There we are," he said. His eyes looked me slowly up and down. "Did you get my owls?"

Lying would have saved his feelings but I was never much for it.

"I did," I said. "I'm so sorry I didn't respond. I've been really, really, really busy…"

His eyes darkened for a second before he smiled. "Well… are you busy now?"

I glanced around until I saw the clock in town square shining over the tops of the houses. It was a little after one.

"I should go back," I pondered. Even to me, my voice sounded a little too loud.

Oscar gently grasped my elbow. "Oh come on then, just a little later's no harm."

"I have to work in the morning," I said to the longing in his face.

"One drink," he persisted. His grip tightened and I flinched.

"Hey," I snapped trying to pull my arm back. Only when I realized I couldn't, did I begin to feel afraid. Instead he leaned even closer in and breathed hotly against my ear.

"Why not?" he asked sweetly.

Angrily I thrust my foot forward until it met with his shin. He yelped and thrust me away from himself. I spun dizzily and cracked my face against a nearby lamppost. I scrambled for my wand.

Before I could get to it, I felt his fingers grasping tightly to the back of my neck. He forced my head back and muttered into my ear.

"Bitch."

The word was both simple and terrifying and I barely had time to react before I was again thrust forward. I fell to the ground, scraping both my palms and having the wind knocked out of me. There was a sudden, blunt pain in my side. Also my wand clattered onto the pavement under me.

I quickly grabbed at it and turned on the man who was again approaching.

"_Petrificus totalus_," I wheezed.

Immediately he seized up and fell to the ground. I rose slowly, wincing at the pain in my ribs, and went to stand over his frozen form.

His eyes were still wide and he stared menacingly at me. I trembled slightly before breaking myself away from his glare and beginning the slow, painful walk back to Hogwarts.

**Snape's POV**

For the eighth time in an hour, I crossed the hall outside her room. I paused to listen in case she had returned when I last left to make my rounds of the castle. There was only silence.

Earlier in the evening I had dispatched a house elf to see that she was in her room. I had no need to see the girl myself. Or rather, she wouldn't appreciate seeing me. After the third trip, when the night had grown long, the creature seemed weary and I dismissed him back to the kitchen. It was too personal a task to entrust to a house elf, anyway.

It had been hours since I had seen her from my window, stalking from the castle. Her shoulders were miserably hunched and her head drooped. Everything in her posture illustrated the vulnerability I had learned to associate with her. It was a gentleness that irritated me as often as it intrigued me.

I couldn't see her face and that itself was merciful.

The sight of her soft features, first widening in surprise and then crumpling hollowly at my words had been nearly too much to bear the first time.

Damn Creevey and the rest of the fourth years who had driven every last semblance of patience from me this afternoon. Or else damn my lack of patience in the first place.

_Although,_ I considered, _it may have been its own kindness._ My harsh words may have served as the final wedge, severing her from me. From the impression she had of me.

I was no fool. I saw the way her eyes lit when she saw me, the way her forehead creased in concern at her perceptions of my suffering. I heard the bated breath when she told me she considered me a hero. I should have corrected her romantic notions then. But I was weak and had never before been admired by someone so young and pretty. When she cast her innocent, yet lively, eyes upon me I was powerless.

_I never deserved her admiration in the first place,_ I thought angrily. A hero? What nonsense what that?

As my thoughts again began to volley sickeningly between viewpoints, I heard a noise at the end of the hall. Quickly I stepped into the shadows. I would spare her from seeing me tonight.

Unseen, I watched her step timidly forth. She too, was hidden in the shadows but I could clearly see her slight figure as she walked. And when she stumbled, I saw her tiny hand grasp at the doorway to brace herself. She cast her face upward and in the moonlight I was able to see the dark bruise painted across her cheek.

**Back to Xaria**

Walking back to the castle alone had been a big mistake. In the adrenaline rush I had severely underestimated my injuries and it was only after my heart stopped racing that I discovered I had at least one broken rib. My head throbbed as well, although I didn't remember hitting it. But then, my conscious memory was a bit hazy and increasingly so as I made my way home.

I was halfway tempted to heal myself. But medi-witch training taught me early that this was never a good idea. So instead I took the walk home very slowly, pausing often while the cold wind whipped around me.

From the moment I passed through the gates of the Hogwarts grounds, my memories were very spotty.

There was a glimpse of the clock in the entrance way declaring it to be nearly three in the morning. Then I remembered standing outside my door. And then voices. And then the sweet release of not having to stand on my own power anymore. Then, after a particularly long blackout, there were voices again.

"You can't go back down there just now," said someone, indistinguishable through my vague awareness.

"She could have been killed," bellowed a second voice. This was enraged and seemed to be from a man. My ears burned with the Frostbite Liniment I imagined had been put on them.

"Dumbledore's already called the Ministry Law Enforcement Office; they're sending a few men over to Hogsmeade."

"Giving him plenty of time to escape," the voice thundered.

"Calm down, Severus," the first voice replied. "And please lower your voice."

The sound of the name sparked my waning attention and I was alert once more. But even the alertness hurt and I closed my eyes against the throbbing.

"So what then?" he continued. "A fine, a written warning, a pleasant and brief incarceration in a Ministry holding cell?"

"And what would you do?" she hissed. "Attack him yourself?"

I'm nearly sure there was silence after this. But then, I was losing consciousness again anyway so I could be wrong.

**SSSSSSSSSS**

The next time I awoke, my mind was blissfully clear. The sunlight shining through the windows still dragged a veil of pain across my eyes but in general, I felt okay. Madam Pomfrey was bustling around the side of my bed, pouring potion from a large jug into a smaller vial.

"I hope this counts as Hours Worked," I croaked hoarsely. "I mean, if I have to be in the Hospital Wing anyway I don't want to be using my vacation time."

Madam Pomfrey swiveled around, her eyes damp with emotion.

"You're awake," she exclaimed. She moved quickly to my side but then seemed unsure what to do next. She settled with clasping my hand tightly.

"Man what a hangover," I tenderly stretched out my arms. "I feel like I got thrown into a lamppost and then stomped on."

She chuckled obligingly at my joke but I could tell she didn't think it was at all funny.

"Take this," she said, passing me the vial she had just filled.

"Reossification Potion?" I asked, tossing it back.

"You broke three of your ribs," she said as I shuddered at the flavor.

"_I_ didn't break my ribs," I corrected her. "The other guy did."

I kept my eyes down as I swallowed at the lump in my throat. I didn't know how to ask my next question. Mercifully, Madam Pomfrey answered my silence.

"The Magical Law Enforcement Patrol picked him up early this morning. They'll come by later to ask you some questions. Also they commend you on your Body Bind."

I smiled to myself. Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat, looking uncomfortable once more.

"Professor Snape went with them actually."

I looked up while she pretended to be busy sorting bandages in a drawer beside my bed.

"Did he?" I asked, trying to imitate her casual tone. "I didn't think law enforcement was his thing."

"Oh, he has a wide range of interests and abilities," she said, moving to the second drawer. "Did you know, for example, he's one of the highest regarded Occlumens in Britain?"

I told her I didn't and she gave a sort of a laugh.

"I imagine he would have lost some credit for that last night though," she went on. Then, without changing her tone she turned and stared directly into my eyes. "I've never seen him so emotional."

She left quickly and I was again alone lost in thought.

**Chapter 20**

Madam Pomfrey, always proficient at her job, had me nearly entirely healed by the end of the day. Then, for the first time, I was on the receiving end of her matron lectures and was forced to submit to another night of sleeping in the Hospital Wing.

Early the next morning, Dumbledore came by for a visit and I was overwhelmed with embarrassment at being seen in a nightgown. The headmaster hardly seemed to notice though as he perched on the edge of my bed and made me laugh until my newly healed ribs ached.

Madam Pomfrey hurried in to scold him and I chuckled again at the way he teased her.

"I suppose I should leave you to your healing," he said, finally submitting to Madam Pomfrey's glares. "I'm actually supposed to be at the Ministry just now for a hearing, anyway."

I managed not to ask but was greatly pleased when he continued on his own.

"It seems our Potions Master was involved with an, shall we say, altercation, in Hogsmeade the other day. Oh don't worry," he said to my unspoken alarm. "Evidently there were no witnesses to the alleged violence. I am confident that he will escape any and all prosecution."

With a wink and smile he departed and I was left gaping. Madam Pomfrey, for her part, didn't seem at all surprised but merely raised her eyebrows and looked pointedly at me.

While maintaining that expression she began to speak.

"After you take your last dose of potion I think you're alright to go. Dumbledore insists that you should have the rest of the week off, not that I'm protesting of course. Just take it slowly and check up with me every day or so."

She nodded the thin flask on my bed's tray. "Go on, then," she prodded.

I grinned and downed the tasteless liquid.

"Thanks Poppy," I said, using her given name for the first time. I hoped it helped convey my gratitude.

**SSSSSSSS**

I would have gone straight to Snape's office right then if I hadn't known he was at the Ministry. Instead I was forced to bide my time, taking the longest shower I could manage, and tediously drying my hair with a hairdryer I stole from the Muggle Studies classroom. And then I paced back and forth in my room for half an hour replaying in my mind the conversations I'd had with Dumbledore and Pomfrey.

I was both terrified and desperate to talk to Professor Snape. On the one hand I needed to hear from him an explanation of his rash actions. Temperamental as he was, I had never known Snape to be impulsive and whatever action landed him in trouble with the Ministry was nothing if not impulsive.

Terror, though, threatened to overtake me as I imagined him lashing out as he had during our last conversation. What Madam Pomfrey had regarded as emotion could easily have been irritation with me. He had warned me, after all, against being out alone at night.

At four o'clock I decided it was time to face him. At the very least, I needed to be admonished once more so I could kill the bit of optimism starting to brew in me. I made my way hurriedly down to the dungeons, periodically breaking into a run, only to stop altogether and force myself to slow once more.

His door was open and I felt my stomach wrench dizzily as I neared it. My head felt light and I clasped a hand tightly to my side, willing myself not to fly apart.

He sat at his desk staring at a piece of parchment, quill posed as though ready to mark it. His hair fell over his face and he rested his forehead in his hands. As I watched him, he was very still and I soon realized he wasn't even reading it.

"Professor Snape," I called out, my voice dying even as I said the words.

He looked up and then rose quickly. Once standing though, he seemed unsure and I moved near to him.

"You're alright," he observed, his eyes racing up and down my figure.

I nodded, dumbstruck at the sight of him. He nodded and gave a very tight smile that he quickly dropped.

"Very good," he said carefully. He lowered his gaze and began to stare intently at the ground. I wondered if I were actually seeing him nervous.

"I'm sorry," he spat the words out as though they tasted bad. "I'm sorry for what I said to you. It wasn't deserved."

I continued not to speak and he went on. His tone took on a very official and impassive gait.

"I do not require your forgiveness. I don't imagine it will be the last time I say something to offend you. I certainly don't expect your patience for my social errors. I don't even know if I would respect your forgiveness, it's so unmerited."

And then his face broke. He finally looked up at me and in his eyes I saw a new innocence. I thought I had seen him vulnerable during the worst of his illness. But that was nothing to what I saw now in his pain-filled eyes.

"You thought I was a hero…" he breathed wretchedly.

He was unable to continue as I had pressed my lips to his in a deep and lasting kiss.

**THE END **

**A/N: **Although the story ends here I have written an additional chapter intended for MATURE audiences that I plan to post as its own story. Provided I don't lose my nerve. Which I may.

Thanks for everyone who read, reviewed, or plans to review. You guys are incredible!


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